The Event: Prologue
by TheEventSaga
Summary: Based heavily off the movie "Knowing", this is where the Saga truly begins. We introduce the main protagonist, Linda, and discover the events that lead not only to the biggest change of her life...but also the very ending of the world as she knows it.
1. Part 1

**Author's note:** _ In order to fully understand the premise of The Event, reading the information posted in my profile is essential!_

* * *

Prologue

The everyday hum of activity droned on in Linda's ears, but she barely heard it. She had no willpower to focus on anything about her life now. She simply existed, moving from day to day with no care to keep an eye on the clock. What did it all matter now, anyway?

She walked at a steady pace down the brightly lit hallway, passing by without a glance the doors that led into conference rooms and the offices of the teachers who worked for the college of sciences. At first, working here at MIT had been fascinating. But Linda's life had no meaning anymore. Her reason for moving to Massachusetts was all but gone now.

Sheba…even the barest thought of her beautiful daughter was enough to bring tears to Linda's eyes. The past month had been the absolute worst of her life, starting from that day—had it actually been only a month ago?—when Sheba had collapsed and started screaming. Linda had never seen anything like it before. Sheba had thrashed and spasmed on the floor, shrieking as though she had been set on fire. And then she had knocked the cup of pencils off the desk, and…and then she had written them down. The accursed, meaningless numbers.

Linda didn't know why she kept the old tax form. Maybe it was some desperate, twisted hope she held. Maybe, if she kept it, one day some sort of meaning would come of it. And then she would have her daughter back.

She wasn't paying attention to where she was going. She was carrying a few books and a binder of papers to another office at the opposite end of the building, but her gaze was unfocused. She did not see the man step out of his office until she ran into him. Linda gasped in surprise as everything in her arms tumbled to the floor.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she said, shocked.

"It's okay. Completely my fault," the man replied, bending down with her to help retrieve the fallen books and papers. Linda's face was flushed with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled again.

"No worries!" the man assured, gathering the last bits of paper together. "No harm done…unless all this needed to be in a particular order. I think I've pretty much screwed it up if it is." He chuckled. "I'm John Koestler, professor of astrophysics."

"Linda Lewis…secretary," Linda replied, blushing again. "I…"

She froze. John had just picked up the last piece of paper, an old tax form. She saw his gaze instantly turn to the rows of numbers scrawled in miniscule handwriting across the paper. She saw his face twist in an expression of confusion.

"This is odd," he said, studying the paper closely. "Is this binary?"

"N…no," Linda replied quietly, averting her gaze to the floor. "My…my daughter wrote them."

John was silent. Through the corner of her eye, Linda could see he hadn't moved. She sighed.

"My daughter…was admitted to Snowden two weeks ago," she admitted. "For a month now she's been going into violent fits. The first time she did it, she wrote these numbers down. Nobody knows what they are, but they have to mean something. Sheba wouldn't just…she couldn't…"

Linda stopped, biting her lip to restrain sobs. She felt John's hand settle gently on her shoulder.

"Come into my office. I have a fresh pot of coffee," he offered.

Linda nodded without thinking. John carried the books and papers for her, escorting her through the open door next to them. John's office was cluttered with books and file cabinets, typical of a busy professor. A window at the far end of the small room looked out over the MIT campus, and a handsome wooden desk divided the room in two. John put her books down on a small table next to the door, and beckoned her to sit down in a padded wooden chair in front of the desk. He walked around to the other side and poured a generous measure of coffee into a mug with the words "I love NYC" on the side.

"How do you take it?" he asked.

"Black," Linda replied.

"My kind of girl," he replied with a smile.

Linda half-smiled as John handed her the mug. She took a sip. It was a very good brand, for it tasted delicious. Definitely higher end than what she normally bought.

"Thank you," she replied. "This tastes wonderful."

"You are very welcome," John replied. "Anything less than Emerald Bay and I can't stay awake through class."

Linda chuckled. Then she noticed that John, who had sat down at the desk, still had the paper in his hand. He had begun studying it again.

"Very strange," he said after a moment. "You think there's an actual meaning to these?"

"I'm positive," Linda replied. "I just don't know what."

John focused on the paper for a few minutes, an expression of genuine interest on his face now. She could see he was scanning it very slowly.

"I don't see any obvious numeric patterns," he said finally. He glanced up briefly. "But I might not be the one to ask. Hey, Julian!"

Linda turned around. A bespectacled man was standing at the doorway, clearly having been in the act of walking by only seconds before. He turned at John's call.

"What's up, John?" he asked casually.

"I have a question," John replied. "Julian, this is Linda. Linda, this is my good friend Julian. He's an advanced mathematics professor." John handed him the paper. "Can you make any sense of that?"

Julian took the paper and studied it. His expression shifted from curiosity to confusion within seconds.

"I've never seen a numeric code like this," he admitted. "What is it?"

"I have it on good confidence it means something important," John replied. "Are you sure you can't make sense of it?"

"John, the study of numerology is extremely imprecise," Julian replied with a half-grin. "It's a whole bunch of people sitting around with nothing better to do than find sense in a bunch of random numbers. And any one of them could come up with a theory that's as equally plausible as another."

Julian handed the paper back.

"If you think there's some meaning to those, go for it," he said. "But I don't think I can be of much help."

John nodded. Linda sighed, hanging her head as a sense of hopelessness rushed through her.

"I am sorry," Julian added, sounding sincere.

"It's okay," John replied. "You heading out tomorrow?"

"Yup. Jess and I are catching the 8:00 am flight to Orlando. Jess is my daughter," he added for Linda's sake. "She's really looking forward to it."

"I hope you and your daughter have fun," Linda replied, managing a smile.

Julian smiled back, saluted John playfully, and left. For a moment, there was silence between them. John shifted the paper in his hands.

"Julian is right. There could be a hundred explanations for this," he said. "For example…"

John pulled out a blank piece of paper and a pen. He wrote down a set of numbers on it large enough for Linda to see. She watched as 9, 1, 1, 0, 1, 2, 9, 9, 6 appeared.

"See…the double repetition of '1' and '9' might be a clue if it was continuous throughout. But it's not. It's more like…"

Suddenly, he paused. Linda stared at him, confused.

"Unless…" he murmured.

John drew hash marks through the numbers he had written, effectively splitting them into something resembling a date. Linda's jaw dropped.

"9/11?" she gasped.

"One possibility," John said quickly, turning to his computer. He typed in something, and stared at the screen for a moment. "A tribute to the fallen, in honor of the 2,996 lives lost that day."

John stared at the screen, then at the paper. Linda could see he was re-reading it with renewed interest.

"How exactly did Sheba come to write these?" he asked.

"She…she had a…seizure." It was the only way Linda could think of to describe it. "She didn't stop thrashing and screaming until she wrote those down. And she's…she's been out of her mind ever since. I couldn't handle her like that. I had to…had to…"

The tears were falling now. John was quick to pass her a tissue.

"May I borrow this tonight?" he asked, sympathy in his voice. "I can follow this theory I have now and see where it gets me."

Linda nodded without actually thinking, simply grateful that there was someone willing to help.

"How can I reach you?" he continued. "I'll call you tomorrow when I have something."

"You can call me at home. I won't be here tomorrow." Linda replied, writing down the number. "I have a lot of paperwork to do."

Linda set her coffee mug aside and stood, taking John's hand.

"Thank you," she said. "I hope you figure something out."

"I'll do the best I can," John vowed.

* * *

_And so our saga begins. Those of you who have read my profile should now see what I mean when I say this thing is fanfiction taken to the extreme. But it isn't as though it is an original method. Half the fanfiction in the world takes a canon storyline and butchers it all to Hell. I can only hope mine does it with a bit more grace._

_Trivia: The prologue was not the first part of The Event to be written. Book I was the first, with all the prologue story simply lurking in my head. Halfway through Book II I decided to write out the prologue in order to help keep the details straight._

_**Take note of this for all future installments of the story: Not all details of all fandoms will be correct. Most details, even minute ones, may have been changed for one of several reasons. I either A) could not remember the right details at the time of original composition, and now am simply too lazy to correct them, or B) changed them to suite the story to my satisfaction._


	2. Part 2

**Author's note:** _ In order to fully understand the premise of The Event, reading the information posted in my profile is essential!_

* * *

The next day was one of the longest of Linda's life. Waking up in her big empty house always depressed her, but today rain drummed against her windows, casting the whole place in gray shadow. For a long time, she simply lay on her bed, trying to force herself not to think of the silence. Sheba's room was right across the hall. Normally, her daughter would already be awake and downstairs cooking breakfast. When Linda would come down the stairs, she would always find her standing in front of the TV, scoffing at the latest political report on CNN.

The rain did not let up as Linda slowly trudged her way through her morning routine. She turned on the TV to get some noise, but barely paid attention to the morning news. She made a cup of hot tea and toasted a bagel for breakfast, then forced herself to begin the long and heartbreaking task of finishing the paperwork for Sheba's transfer to a long-term care facility in London. The best experts the Council of Watchers could provide had not been able to help her. Thinking about the hopeless situation over and over again was making Linda physically ill. The only chance she held to was the hope that John discovered something.

But the morning passed, and John did not call. Linda worked in the kitchen, unable to bear going anywhere near the desk in the den. The TV remained on, passing through the news at noon and afternoon soap operas almost completely ignored. The only words Linda ever caught in that time were mentions of increased solar activity on the surface of the sun, and reports on the unusually warm weather. Linda trudged through the work slowly, simply waiting now. She would be leaving for Snowden at midafternoon to hear the next round of bad news from the doctors there.

Linda had just decided it was time to leave when her phone rang. She nearly jumped out of her skin, but was able to scramble to the phone and answer it.

"Hello?"

"_Linda? It's John_." The connection was a little static. Linda guessed he was on a cell phone.

"Yes! Did you find anything?" Linda felt her heart beat faster.

"_I think I did. Listen, are you doing anything this afternoon_?"

"I'm going up to Snowden."

"_Need a ride? This is something I need to speak to you about in person_."

"Are you sure? Snowden is a 30 mile drive."

"_I'm sure_."

Linda was very nervous about the tone in John's voice. But she agreed without hesitation, giving him the directions to her home, and waited anxiously on the front porch for him to arrive. He pulled in after about 15 minutes, driving a black crew-cab pickup. Though it was still raining, Linda did not bother opening an umbrella as she jogged to his truck and opened the passenger door. John greeted her with a half-smile, fiddling with a small GPS on the dashboard as she climbed in. It took a moment for Linda to realize he was programming in Snowden's location.

"Straight up I-19. Shouldn't be difficult," he said softly.

Linda nodded, waiting for him to start speaking. But he didn't do more than drive until they were merging into traffic on I-19 ten minutes later. Then, he shifted in his seat and pulled the tax form out of his jacket pocket. He unfolded it and set it down on the console between them.

"I was looking through that all night," he said. "Are you sure Sheba just pulled these out of thin air?"

Linda gave him a bewildered look. John nodded.

"Using the date we found yesterday as a guide, I was able to match up, in perfect sequence, every single major disaster for the past 50 years on this list. Date, and exact number of dead."

Linda gasped, clapping a hand to her mouth as she looked down at the numbers again.

"These are all…dates?!" she asked.

"There are sequences of eight numbers between every date and death count that I cannot identify," John admitted. "But it is eight numbers every time, so they must mean something."

"But…but why would Sheba worry about things that have already happened?"

John turned to look at her. He was safe in doing so, for they had come to a near traffic-jam now. Through the pouring rain, they could see flashing lights in the distance.

"Look at these," he said, pointing to the last lines on the paper. "Starting from here."

Linda looked. The numbers John was pointing at resembled a date.

"T…today?!" she squeaked, her eyes wide.

"Today," he repeated. "And four others, all in the future. According to Sheba's predictions on this paper, somewhere on Earth 81 people are going to die."

Silence fell once more. Linda could not think of anything to say. Her hands were shaking. She abruptly felt John's hand upon hers.

"I believe," he said. "And I'll do everything I possibly can to help."

Linda nodded. John released her, and turned to his GPS.

"There has to be an alternate route," he grumbled, tapping the screen. "Maybe…"

And then he froze. The GPS was showing their latitude and longitude now. Eight glowing white numbers. John picked up the paper again and stared at it.

"The rest of the numbers are locations," he said flatly. "This location."

His gaze met Linda's. Then, slowly, they both turned towards the flashing lights ahead of them. The traffic was completely stopped. Some people were getting out of their vehicles to see what the problem was. John turned off the engine and slid out into the rain. Linda followed, popping open her umbrella and quickly jogging to his side. He gently took her arm as they walked between the cars towards the police barricade. There was a man in a bright yellow vest shouting for people to return to their vehicles. John released her arm and stepped forward.

"Is everything alright?" he called over the rain.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you need to return to your vehicle," the man responded.

"Anybody hurt?" John pressed.

"A couple of injuries, but nothing major."

John turned back around. Linda approached him, lifting her umbrella to shield his head.

"I don't understand," he said.

Linda opened her mouth to reply. But at that moment, sharp screams and a dull roar sounded behind her. She twisted around, her umbrella ripping out of her hand in a sudden gust of wind. But she wasn't paying any attention to that. A massive jet airliner was screaming down out of the sky, barreling straight towards them. Smoke trailed from its engines as it tilted sideways, the wing taking out a power line and slamming into the asphalt of the eastbound lanes.

Linda's ears were full of the deafening sounds of the plane. She didn't hear John scream, or feel him throw her to the ground and spread himself over top of her. But she did feel the ground shake as the engine of the left wing impacted just yards from them. Shrapnel went flying everywhere. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw engine rotor blades fly into the midst of the paramedics. At the first glimpse of blood and body parts, she very nearly vomited.

John forced her to duck her head as the plane roared past. And then the earth shook powerfully, and all Linda could see was fire. The plane hit the open field just beyond the interstate, cartwheeled, and disintegrated in a massive explosion that sent a ball of fire spiraling into the sky.

For several minutes, there was only fire and chaos around her. She and John seemed to be in the only place in the plane's path that wasn't in flames. She could feel his arms around her, his body still shielding her. And finally, she felt him lift her to her feet.

"Come on, Linda! We have to get out of here!" he shouted.

And Linda couldn't protest. All she could do was cling to him desperately, and force her legs to carry her faster than they had ever done before. And all around them, the roars and screams echoed into the smoke-blackening sky.

* * *

_By now, readers who have seen the movie Knowing should recognize the storyline. I take no credit for it. This is simply how the inspiration began. This scene, right here, which also happens to be my favorite part. _

_Again, this prologue isn't the meat and bones of The Event. That starts with Book I. But to know how it all began, this has to come first. So bear with me, more original storyline WILL be coming soon!_


	3. Part 3

**Author's note:** _ In order to fully understand the premise of The Event, reading the information posted in my profile is essential!_

* * *

Linda was silent as John turned his truck down his street, still shivering despite the fact that there was a thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hand was still tightly clasped around his, unwilling to let go. John seemed to understand, for he didn't protest, and even rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

They had been stuck at the scene of the crash for almost six hours, unable to help the stranded and trapped due to the overwhelming fire. For hours and hours they had stood on a hillside with several dozen others, just holding each other and letting the rain soak them through. When the rescue crews had finally gotten around to dealing with the traffic, John had paused only long enough to get the blanket for her before guiding her to the mercifully undamaged truck. The paper had still been lying on the console. Linda had stuffed it into her purse without looking at it.

It was after midnight now. John had started driving her back home, but then had seemed to reconsider it, seeing the terrified expression on her face.

"I've got some spare clothes at home that will fit you," he had said. "Come stay with me and my son tonight."

Linda had agreed, relieved that she wouldn't have to spend the night alone. He was nearing his house now, finally pulling into his driveway. The house was beautiful, similar to hers but with a complete wrap-around porch. There were lights on inside, and a woman standing at the front door.

"Is that your wife?" Linda asked.

"No. That's my neighbor. I asked her to watch my son for me this evening," John replied. "I'm not married."

He parked the truck and turned off the engine. The woman approached them as they were heading up the front walk.

"Thank goodness." The woman sounded absolutely relieved. "I was terrified when I heard about the plane crash. You were…you were right there, weren't you?"

John didn't respond. He simply tightened his grip around Linda. The woman nodded, understanding.

"Caleb didn't want to go to bed, so I have him waiting in the living room," she said.

"Thank you, Janet," John replied.

The woman gave John a brief hug before turning and disappearing into the darkness towards the house next door. He watched her go, then turned and led Linda up to the front door. He opened it to reveal a very nice but slightly untidy corridor with stairs leading to the second floor. A young boy was standing at the doorway to the living room.

"Caleb," John said, and the boy quickly approached, throwing his arms tightly around his waist. "It's okay, sport. I'm okay." Linda felt him settle a hand on her shoulder. "This is Linda. Could you do me a favor, and show her up to the guest bedroom? She's gonna stay with us tonight." He turned to her. "Spare clothes are in the dresser. You can take whatever you like."

Caleb seemed confused, but he did not protest. Linda followed him up the stairs to the second floor. The guest room was a modest little room with wide windows that faced the back yard. It was across the hall from a door clearly marked as Caleb's room, and had the look of not having been used in a while. But the bedding was clean, and the furniture free of dust. Linda sat down on the bed and let the blanket around her shoulders fall. To her surprise, Caleb sat down fearlessly beside her.

"You're the lady who gave Dad that list of numbers?" he asked, his tone curious. "He was up all night last night figuring it out."

Linda blinked. The meaning in Caleb's words was unmistakable.

"You understand what your father found out?" she asked.

"Yeah," Caleb replied. He bowed his head. "How close were you…to the plane?"

Linda bit her lip, not wanting to tell the boy that she could have reached up and touched the wing as it passed. But he seemed to understand anyway. His eyes widened in shock.

"Your father kept us out of danger," she assured quickly. "He saved my life."

She was rapidly starting to feel exhausted. It was warm and quiet in this house, and the bed underneath her felt very inviting.

"You need to sleep," Caleb said suddenly. "You look very tired."

Linda smiled slightly.

"It's supposed to be warm tonight," he continued, standing. "I'll get you a fan."

Linda didn't have time to protest. Caleb darted out of the room and returned a few moments later with a stand fan, which he set in a corner and plugged in.

"This room has its own bathroom, right there," he said, pointing to a door across from the bed. "Good night, Linda."

"Good night, Caleb," Linda replied.

Linda took a quick shower, draping her wet clothes over the rim of the tub. Then, she slipped on a plain T-shirt and shorts from the dresser—all of the clothes were feminine, and she suspected they had once belonged to Caleb's mother—and crawled into the bed. She slept very deeply that night, aided by her exhaustion and the comfort provided by the soft sounds of activity her own home had been sorely lacking.

The next morning, it was footsteps that eventually awoke her. She sat up in time to see Caleb step out of his room, fully dressed with a backpack over one shoulder. He had seen her move, for he stopped and looked at her.

"Dad was up all night again," he said. "He has carpool today."

"Where is he?" Linda asked.

"Asleep on the couch in the den."

Linda retreated to the bathroom only long enough to slip her bra back on and replace the shorts with her almost dry jeans. Then, she followed Caleb downstairs. Sure enough, John was sprawled on the couch in a very cluttered den. The television was turned to CNN, which was playing footage of the plane crash. A half empty shot glass sat on the coffee table. And balanced on a table next to the computer desk was a dry erase board upon which the numbers had been meticulously rewritten. They were circled in many places in different colors, showing the pattern John had found. A cordless phone lay on the floor by his limp hand.

"He was on the phone all night?" she whispered.

Caleb shrugged. Linda sighed and stepped forward.

"John?" she called, gently shaking his shoulder. "John?"

John awoke slowly. He stared at her for a long moment when his eyes opened, as if trying to figure out why she was there. Then, he shook his head.

"Oh, Linda," he said groggily.

"John," Linda pressed. "Caleb says you have carpool today."

He blinked, then abruptly tried to sit up.

"Oh, crap," he groaned. "I'm so sorry, Caleb. Are we late?"

"John, you need rest," Linda said quickly. "Give me your keys and I'll take Caleb to school."

John seemed about to protest. Linda could tell he had a lot to say. But she kept a firm expression on her face, and after a moment he gave in.

"Okay," he murmured, sitting back. "The keys are on the stand next to the front door."

"I'll be right back," Linda promised.

She wasn't worried about having to drive John's truck. She was comfortable in all sizes of vehicles. And with Caleb navigating, she was able to run the carpool route without difficulty. The kids and parents were surprised to see her, but nobody seemed very concerned.

"I'm a friend," she said to anyone who asked. "John asked me to run the kids for him. He's not feeling well this morning."

Linda returned to John's house within 45 minutes. When she got back inside, she found him awake and alert, staring at the TV.

"81 dead," he said flatly, turning his gaze to the dry erase board. "81…"

Linda didn't have to look to know Sheba's numbers were accurate. She sat down beside him and put her arms around his shoulders. He was shaking.

"I called…everyone," he said. "Everyone I could think of. Everyone ignored me. Nobody believed me. The numbers predict four more events. My GPS says they'll take place in Tokyo, Dubai, New York City, and right outside of this town. 10,820, 461, 48, and 33 people are going to die in the next two and a half weeks."

Linda gripped John tightly, biting her lip. A tremor of terror was making her heart pound.

"I have to do something, but I don't know what," John continued helplessly. "If only I knew how, instead of just where…"

He abruptly turned, now staring directly at her.

"Sheba wrote the numbers. Would she know?"

Linda sighed.

"John…I don't think she can help," she whispered. "She's out of her mind right now. She can't even recognize me. All she would do when I had her home was sit and stare at walls. I…I couldn't take care of her anymore."

"But you won't be alone," John said firmly. "Caleb and I will help you take care of her."

"But our jobs…"

"I'll go on sabbatical. Starting today. There's no way I can concentrate now anyway." He gripped her hands. "If there is anything Sheba can give us…we have to try. 10,820 people are going to die in three days."

* * *

_And yet again, one more note for my readers. There are parts that just need to be taken with a grain of salt. Trust me, you'll see what I mean in future parts. I have some things written the way they are, even if they are not logical, just so I can keep the story going. This will REALLY be obvious when I get into Sheba's military career in Book III. Yeah..._


	4. Part 4

**Author's note:** _ In order to fully understand the premise of The Event, reading the information posted in my profile is essential!_

* * *

Arranging for Sheba's discharge from the hospital had been a near impossible task. Linda had been forced to backflip through hoops and argue on the phone for hours on end to convince the doctors and the Council that the best place for Sheba to be was at home. A Slayer in a mental institution was a situation nobody took lightly. And had Sheba not signed over power of attorney to Linda before going into the Air Force, she probably never would have succeeded.

But in the end, Linda had won. Sheba had not had a fit for weeks. And she was perfectly harmless otherwise. But the time that had passed before reaching this point had worn on Linda completely. She hadn't been able to turn on her car radio at all this morning, despite the long drive to Snowden—made even longer by her refusal to take the interstate. She had borrowed John's GPS to guide her up the alternate route. She knew that if she turned on the radio, all she would hear was the news. Over and over again, the same reports.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since the day of the plane crash. And in that time, two more of Sheba's predictions had come true. Despite all of John's phone calls, despite all of Linda's pleas to the Council, they had happened. In Tokyo, a tidal wave triggered by a horrific earthquake. 10,820 people dead, many swept out to sea, never to be seen again. And five days after that, a skyscraper had collapsed in Dubai. A complete freak accident. 461 people dead there. And today was the day of the third. 48 people to die in New York City, in one of the busiest intersections in Manhattan. John had even gone so far as to drive to a gas station pay phone in the next town and call in an anonymous tip to the FBI. Still, nobody had believed him.

Linda felt her hands tremble on the steering wheel. John was on his way to Manhattan right now, despite her pleas, to try and stop the event from happening. They had a clue what was to occur. CNN had taken a break from reporting the chaos to announce a new terror threat for the city. An attack was looming. And John had only one thing to say to her as he had dropped Caleb off at her home early that morning.

"Don't let him listen to the news," he had whispered. Caleb had been distracted with a bowl of cereal in the kitchen. "Take him with you to get Sheba, but don't…"

"I know," Linda had replied, tears in her eyes. "Be careful, John."

"Are you okay, Linda?" Caleb asked suddenly.

Linda glanced over at him. He had been quiet throughout the trip, casually reading a book for school and playing a video game. His eyes were on her now, concerned.

"I'm fine, Caleb," she replied.

"And Dad? Is he okay?"

Linda sighed.

"I hope so."

They had finally reached Snowden. Linda pulled into the near empty parking lot slowly. It was a nice facility, but she hated it with a passion. She was infinitely grateful to John for the opportunity to bring Sheba home.

"This won't take long," she assured as she turned the engine off. "Everything's already settled. And don't worry. Sheba is perfectly safe."

"I'm not afraid," Caleb replied. "I'd be crazy too, if I had to see the numbers like she did."

Linda gripped his hand briefly, then climbed out of the car. A nurse was already waiting for her, standing at the front door.

"Miss Lewis is ready to go," she reported.

"Thank you," Linda replied.

Once inside, it was ten minutes of signing discharge papers and one more argument with the doctor. And then, finally, Sheba was led out to her.

"Hey, baby," Linda crooned, raising her hands to take Sheba's as the nurse led her forward. "Are you ready to go home?"

Sheba looked at her blearily. She seemed to be in fair condition physically. But her skin was pale. And her eyes were all but lifeless. She stepped up to Linda and put her arms around her, but it felt more like a reflex than a gesture of love. Linda kissed Sheba's forehead tenderly.

"The car is right outside," she said. "Let's go."

Linda led Sheba out to the car without looking back. Her daughter's condition had not changed, but still it felt wonderful to have her back. She would do whatever was needed to keep her happy. She had taken extended leave from work just to be home with her.

Caleb was waiting for them when they approached, helpfully opening the passenger door so Linda could guide Sheba inside. She sat down smoothly enough, and allowed Linda to buckle her seatbelt without a fuss. Caleb had moved his things to the backseat. Sheba turned her head to look at him as he and Linda climbed in and shut the doors.

"This is Caleb, Sheba," Linda said. "He's a friend. And he's gonna help me take care of you."

"Caleb," Sheba said softly.

Caleb smiled and waved. Sheba blinked, and turned back around to stare out the passenger window. Linda sighed and exchanged a glance with him through the rearview mirror.

The drive home was long. Nobody spoke, and Linda kept the radio turned off. Caleb played his game for a while, but after about an hour he set it aside and stared out the window. Sheba had fallen asleep. Outside, the air was warm and slightly muggy. A strange haze was visible even when Linda was driving through forest.

Caleb started getting antsy at about 15 miles from home. Linda understood completely. It was almost three in the afternoon, and there was no way of knowing if John was okay, or if Manhattan was in flames. Her hand twitched towards the radio, but she resisted at the last moment.

"I want to know," Caleb protested. "I want to know if Dad is okay."

"Caleb, finding out what happened isn't going to tell us if John is okay," Linda replied regretfully. "Best just to get home as fast as we can and wait for his call."

The boy nodded. And for a few minutes, the car was silent again. Sheba stirred awake and yawned, looking at the clock on the console. Two minutes passed. Then, as the clock ticked to 2:45, she lifted her hand and pointed at the time.

"Bang," she said quietly.

There was no mistaking the meaning behind the word. Caleb cried out, and Linda slammed on the brakes. The car behind her swerved and blared its horn as it sped past. Sheba yelped as she was thrown against the seatbelt.

As soon as Linda had control and the car was safely pulled over, she turned on the radio. Caleb leaned forward, his face paled in fear. Sheba curled up in the seat and began playing with a few locks of her beautiful red hair. The radio was playing a harmless commercial. But then, the commercial cut off.

"_Breaking news from New York. Reports are coming in of a subway train derailment at the Lafayette Square station. A train travelling full speed apparently jumped the tracks and collided with another train unloading passengers. Officials at the scene are hurrying to turn off power to the area, as massive electrical surges are being reported all over downtown Manhattan. It is not believed to be the result of a terrorist attack. Repeat, there has not been a terrorist attack_."

Linda felt her body grow cold. In the backseat, Caleb was crying. Sheba looked up at her, her face serene.

"Bang," she repeated.

* * *

_One thing I haven't mentioned yet. Sheba and Linda are characters that were originally created for unfinished Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfictions from years ago. How Sheba relates to the BtVS universe are explanations that will come in later books. Also, please see the short story "Beginnings", also posted on this account._


	5. Final

**Author's note:** _ In order to fully understand the premise of The Event, reading the information posted in my profile is essential!_

* * *

That afternoon was the longest of Linda's life. She took Sheba and Caleb back to her home and started desperately calling John, but she never got through. All the while the TV was on, playing over and over the scenes from New York. People covered in dust running, smoke billowing up from holes in the ground. Caleb sat on the couch with Sheba, curled up against her side. Although her expression remained listless, she had put an arm gently around him, patting him whenever he shivered or sniffled.

Hours passed. It was while Linda was in the kitchen, trying to make dinner, that the phone rang. She ran for it and fumbled for a few moments.

"John?!" she called desperately.

"_It's okay, Linda. I'm okay_."

"Oh, thank God!" Linda slumped to her knees. Caleb was instantly at her side. "John, where are you?"

"_Almost home. Did you get Sheba_?" He sounded exhausted.

"Yes, she's here."

"_And Caleb? Is he_…"

"I'm okay, Dad," Caleb called. He was close enough to hear him.

"_Okay. Linda, please bring them over. I'll be home in a few minutes_."

"We'll be right there, John."

Caleb was already running to the living room as Linda regained her feet and hung up the phone. He coaxed Sheba to her feet.

"Come on, Sheba. We're going to my house."

Sheba didn't protest. She followed Caleb out to the car, with Linda close behind. She knew the way by heart now. It only took ten minutes to reach John's driveway. The truck was already there, but the engine was still running. It shut off as Linda parked next to it. Caleb was out of the car in seconds, running around the truck to John. She could see his dusty hair as he knelt to pick up his son.

"Caleb?" Sheba asked. "Where's Caleb?"

"It's okay, baby. He's right over there with his dad," Linda replied soothingly.

John walked around the truck slowly, still carrying Caleb. He was covered in white dust, and there was blood on his left leg. Linda got out of the car, tears in her eyes.

"Oh, John," she murmured.

It turned out that the blood was coming from a shallow gash on John's thigh. Linda treated and bandaged it in his kitchen after he had showered the dust off and changed clothes, taking upmost care to scour the wound clean while she listened to his story.

"I followed that man all the way down into the train. His jacket was bulging…I thought he had a bomb on his chest," he said. "But all he had was an armful of stolen DVDs. And then I saw the other train…"

He trailed off and put his head in his hands. Linda sat in the chair beside him and put her arms around him. The pallor of his skin was unchanged, despite the fact that the obscuring white dust was gone.

"One left," he said. "Two days from now. Right outside of town. We have to stop this one. We have to."

"We will," Linda whispered.

John hadn't even tried to ask Sheba anything. One look at her was enough to show him she wouldn't be able to tell him anything. She had wandered up the stairs a few minutes before. Linda suspected she was sitting in a corner somewhere. Caleb was in the den.

"Caleb," she called. "Could you check on Sheba?"

"Okay," he replied.

Linda heard him climb up the stairs. John sat back, fingering the paper in his hands. The sheet of numbers was now almost completely crumpled and worn. He had his eyes on the last set of numbers. The ones that said 33 people were to die in two days.

"Hey," he said suddenly. "These are different."

Linda looked over John's shoulder. He had his thumb over the 33. She blinked, seeing what had caught his attention.

"Those…aren't three's," she gasped. "They're 'E's." She took the paper, holding it close to her eyes. "Sheba has always written her capital 'E's backwards. I don't know why I didn't see this before."

"But what does 'EE' mean?" John asked.

"Dad!"

Caleb's scream sent both John and Linda running. John leapt up the stairs three at a time, Linda fast on his heels. Caleb was standing just inside the bathroom door, his eyes wide with fright. John tried to push the door open, only to be met by a yelp and a thud. Sheba suddenly staggered into view behind Caleb, reaching out to grip the wall as she shook and panted. Once John was inside Linda squeezed past him, putting her arms around Sheba. John swung the bathroom door shut.

And then, they all stared. A metal pen shell lay on the floor. Sheba had used it to scratch two words all over the back of the door.

Everyone else.

Sheba was crying now, a soft, pitiful noise. But it was drowned out by John's sudden gasp.

"That's it," he murmured.

And suddenly, he was gone, disappearing back downstairs before either Linda or Caleb could protest.

"Caleb, stay here," she said desperately. "Watch over Sheba."

Linda raced back downstairs. She found John in front of his computer, pulling up what looked like an old presentation. The curve of a star against a field of black. He pointed at the star.

"This is Cygnus 12. A few years ago, I studied a large spike of energy coming from this star. It's about the same size as our sun." He clicked the screen, and the animation of a massive solar flare filled the black area. "All the way home from New York, I heard the radio talking about increased solar activity on our sun, about electrical failures caused by the increase. These solar storms are what are making it so warm out right now. It's what brought down the plane, and derailed the train. Everything is connected."

"John, what are you…"

"Look!"

He pressed a few keys. Suddenly, the curve of Cygnus 12 was labeled "sun" and four planets appeared in the black. Mercury, Venus, Earth, and Mars.

"A super flare, right in our own solar system," John said bleakly. "A 600 billion ton burst of solar energy stretching out beyond Mars." He replayed the animation, and the flare on the screen shot out past Earth. "Enough to fry away our atmosphere…and kill all life on the planet." He dropped his hands to his lap. "This is what Sheba is trying to warn us about. This is why she's gone insane. She's foreseen the end of the world."

Linda could barely bring herself to breathe. She sank to her knees at John's side.

"Maybe we can call someone," she whispered. "Everyone has to know."

"The government already does. The announcement will come any time now," he said darkly. "The place Sheba predicted in the numbers…it's an open field on a hillside. I think we'd have the best view there. We…we can't stop this one."

And Linda believed him. Looking into his eyes, she knew his words were true. The end had come.

The next day passed in a haze, both physically and mentally. They stayed home, all four of them holding each other's hands as they watched the news. At lunch, Linda made sandwiches. And at dinner, John fired up his grill, and they all sat at the picnic table in the backyard eating his traditional Sunday night hot dog surprise. Linda had to feed Sheba by hand, for she was almost catatonic now.

Later that night, John and Linda tucked their children into bed, and then she went into his room to sit with him on his bed. A dazzling aurora borealis flickered in the sky outside the window.

"John…" she whispered. "Thank you."

"For what?" he asked. "I didn't do anything."

Linda turned to face him, settling her hands on either side of his face.

"You believed me," she said.

No more words were spoken that night. Linda stayed in John's arms, making love with him more tender and passionate than anything she had ever felt before. In those few precious hours, Linda realized she did not just respect him. She loved him. Loved him more than any other man she had ever known.

The next morning, Linda put together the most sumptuous breakfast she could make. They all ate quietly. Caleb seemed to know what was going on. Her respect for the boy grew with each passing moment. He was trying to be brave.

When the sound for the emergency broadcast system echoed in the den, John got up to watch. He came back a minute later.

"They just announced it," he said.

"How long?" Linda asked.

"They don't know."

Together, everyone turned to look at Sheba. She looked back blankly, then glanced at the clock on the wall.

"One hour," she said flatly.

There was silence for a few minutes.

"What do we do now?" Caleb asked softly.

Linda glanced at John. For a long moment, he was still. Finally, he approached Caleb and gathered him in his arms.

"We go where the numbers say to go," he replied. "They haven't been wrong yet."

Linda took Sheba's hand and gently pulled. When she stood, she wrapped her arms around her and followed John outside. They didn't clean up the dishes, turn off the TV, or even shut the front door. Together they started walking down the street. The sky was a strange yellow-white in the dawn, the sun a blazing red ball breaking the horizon. All around there were people. Some were frantically packing their cars. Others were simply running around screaming. And some were just standing, their arms around their loved ones. It was these people who noticed them as they walked past, saw the calm on their faces. Some began to follow them.

The sky turned red as they finally reached the hillside field outside of town. A small crowd was already there, congregated near the top. John led the way up the slope until they stood just above the treeline. They had a spectacular view of the town here, and the blazing sky.

"John, Caleb?" Linda asked quietly, breaking the silence. "I love you both. Thank you."

Caleb reached for her hand, and Linda gave it to him. John smiled softly. And at her other side, Sheba sighed.

"Bang," she whispered.

Linda tightened her grip. At that moment, a bright white light filled the sky. And an even brighter blue light behind them turned the grass at their feet silver. She turned around, staring in shock at the swirl of light at the top of the hill.

"John!" she screamed over a building roar that was drowning out everything else. "John, a gateway! Run to the gateway!"

She knew he couldn't hear her. But he turned and saw it anyway. And without hesitation he started to run. Linda tried to follow, but was yanked back by her grip on Sheba, who wasn't moving.

"Run, Sheba!" she screamed, yanking on her daughter's arm. "Come on! Run!"

Sheba blinked, then finally fell into step, the two of them running pell-mell up the slope of the hill. Linda didn't dare look back, but she could still see it anyway, out of the corners of her eyes. A massive wall of fire, thousands of feet high, barreling towards them faster than the speed of sound. The very earth was ripping apart in its wake. Heat was building, hotter and hotter. The very air was scorching.

Linda could not see John, or Caleb. She couldn't even see Sheba next to her. All she could see was fire, and the bright swirling light. She was pulling Sheba along with her. She was five feet away. Two feet. She was right there.

A massive wave of searing heat roasted her left side. Her ears filled with an earth-cracking roar.

The gateway was upon her.

Linda jumped.

End of Prologue.

* * *

_And we come to the end of the prologue. Now the true story begins._


End file.
